Tuesday, 16 October 2012

Misadventures in Magic – part 1: The Cursed Ring

Since the spring I’ve felt as if my ability to tap into power of the Universe has diminished. At first I thought it was just due to the fact that I’d stopped meditating on a regular basis and that probably did have a huge impact. But then when I made a concerted effort to meditate every day, it still felt like something was missing.
Taking a look back over the summer and spring, here is the first (of several) misadventures that may have had an impact.

Part 1: The Cursed Ring
Some time ago I was walking in to work from the station, in a world of my own as normal. Just as I passed a church a stout woman in her late middle age gasps and points to a ring on the floor. She says: “Look! A wedding ring.”

Like a true sucker I stop to make conversation.

“Well, let’s take it to a police station,” I say.

“Oh no,” she responds quickly. “I am just looking for cleaning job. You help me?”

At this point I’m a bit confused, does she want the ring returned to its owner or just asking for a hand-out?

“We should hand in the ring,” I re-affirm.

“You go to the police,” she urges me as she pushes the ring in to my hand. “But please just share a little finder with me now.”

Sure enough I give her far too much money and continue to walk the short journey in to work feeling bemused and confused. As soon as I get in to work and tell the office ladies what has happened, they all laugh and told me in no uncertain terms that I’ve been duped. This con-game is being played out all over London.

Anyway, that’s not the end of it… One of the office ladies from Ireland says: “That is a cursed ring.”
Now I’m not sure if she said it as a joke or not, but I’m starting to get worried. What if it does bring bad luck? What if by believing it’s cursed – that it actually attracts the bad luck?

So fast forward a few weeks, the Irish office lady has taken the ring to a pawn shop but the owner shakes his head and holds up a string with fifty such cheap rings. Finally the office lady and I forget about the ring for another couple of weeks until one day she’s robbed. A motorcyclist snatches her bag out of the basket attached to the front of her bicycle.

The next day she tells me of her robbery. I point out that at least we’ve managed to get rid of the cursed ring. Attempting to sell it or throw it in the river did not work, but in the end the Universe had its own way of moving on the cursed ring to another recipient.